


White Lies

by Carressa



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: A child committing gruesome murder, Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alcoholism, Betrayal, Blasphemy, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Drug Abuse, Emotional Constipation, Endlessly Patient McCree, Everyone is recovered and sober, Getting Arrested, Getting Together, Hanzo's self-esteem issues, Illegal Activities, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, McReverseBang_18, Minor Genji/Zenyatta/Lucio, Murder, Past Child Abuse, Smoking, Sojiro Shimada's A+ Parenting, The Shimada clan as a cult, Thievery, Yakuza Prince Hanzo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-25 23:08:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15650814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carressa/pseuds/Carressa
Summary: International thieves Jesse McCree and Hanzo Shimada believe their latest heist will be easy. A reliquary of Mother Mary's hair. To be stolen from the Vatican Museum on Christmas eve night.  But Hanzo isn't telling McCree the whole truth about there latest job and his lies threaten to topple not only the success of the heist, but his relationship with McCree.





	White Lies

**Author's Note:**

> Art by [ xxhunter](http://xxhhunter.tumblr.com/tagged/similartoart) Story based on art work below.

The interior of the exhibit room was crowded. With other exhibits in the Vatican Museum McCree could get away with ushering the crowd away quickly if an exhibit was a tight fit. But the Room of the Immaculate Conception had just received a new piece. Seeing as how a few patrons had flown in just to see it he couldn't afford to be stingy with time.

“And here you have the recent addition to the collection. A reliquary of Mother Mary's hair. As you can see it's adorned with gem-studded crosses. Although we believe the gem work was added sometime during recent years. The amulet reliquary is made of bronze, and has been said to be blessed. Some claim it has performed miracles. It was discovered by. . .” McCree was dressed nicely for a change. White button shirt, black dress pants and shoes. His hair up in a small ponytail held together in a black elastic band. He couldn't exactly come into work wearing his spurs. On top of all that he wore his prosthetic that had synthetic skin. Satya's doing, naturally.

“His accent is adorable. I wonder where he's from.”

“And if there's more where he came from.” An American couple in front of Hanzo laughed at their own commentary. Hanzo rolled his eyes. It seemed some people were born without shame. This was the third time Hanzo had snuck into one of McCree's tours. It wasn't the first time someone in the crowd had said something about how attractive McCree was. Hanzo tried to tell himself he had legitimate reasons to be angry about his partner's secret admirers, but when he tried to think of specifics he came up short.

 _Objectively_ , Hanzo could understand why strangers fell for McCree. Out of the two of them McCree was the people person. Easy going and easy on the eyes. Charismatic to a fault. Hands so quick and smile so charming you'd never notice your wallet was gone before it was far too late. Not that Hanzo and McCree pulled small cons like pickpocketing. International heists and million dollar treasures were more their style. And after working together for five years they'd gotten damn good at it.

McCree pointed at the fresco on the far wall and began to name the year it was made and by what painter. Hanzo took the opportunity to move closer to the chatty American oglers. Dressed in street clothes, hair in a messy top knot, hands in his pockets, Hanzo had made sure he wouldn't stand out in a crowd. Even if the crowd was tourists who needed to keep their eyes to themselves.

“How old did you say the these were?” Someone from the crowd asked.

“A century old.” McCree said. Hanzo sidled his way over into McCree's line of sight. He pretended to look at an artifact sitting in display case off to the side.

“And what about you?” It was one of the tourists Hanzo had overheard ogling McCree. Hanzo rolled his eyes and scoffed.

“38, sir.” McCree said with a wink.

Whatever response the tourist was about to give was interrupted by Hanzo stepping on his foot while pretending to get a better look at the fresco.

“Sorry.” Hanzo said. He ignored the angry side glance the tourist threw his way.

“And that's it for the tour everyone. Please feel free to explore at your leisure and if you have any more questions I'll be happy to answer them.”McCree said.

The tour dispersed. Hanzo caught McCree's eye and gave a subtle held tilt toward the main exit. McCree didn't respond, but Hanzo knew he got the message. Hanzo would be waiting for him at their spot.

Hanzo knew the path to their spot by heart now. As he walked he tried to keep a slow pace. Rome was beautiful and he wanted to enjoy it. The buildings were brightly colored in eggshell yellows and terracotta pinks, the streets old, the feel of it deeply ancient and very much alive. Hanzo hadn't had many occasions to be in Italy, but he liked it. It was a shame they weren't staying longer. Maybe in a few months after things cooled down. Or next year around the same time. He would have to make it up to McCree for making them work during Christmas this year.

The fountain they had agreed on as their meeting place came into view and Hanzo settled in for a wait when his phone began to ring.

He fussed to get his phone out of his jacket pocket. It was Genji. Of course it was Genji. Hanzo's little brother was an annoyance beyond measure.

“What fresh horror have you called to inflict me with?”

“Brother! Tell Zen and Lucio to stop being mean to me! They won't let me work at this awesome new club I—“

Something crashed in the background of the call, there was screaming, Genji giggling and the sound of a door slamming closed.

“Do you have fun giving your partners headaches?” Hanzo asked. A strong wind went by and Hanzo watched ripples form on the surface of the fountain's water.

“I would be a good club manager.”

“As good as I would be running a liquor store. Are you calling just to cause trouble?”

“No. I wouldn't waste your time like that, you have no faith in me. I'm calling to see if you told McCree the truth about the amulet yet?”

Dread filled Hanzo's stomach. Two weeks ago he had told McCree this job only existed because a wealthy buyer had expressed interest in contracting them to steal Mother Mary's reliquary. McCree put up his own money to get them supplies and plane tickets when he heard about the 5 million dollar payout on completion. But in truth it was all a lie. There was no buyer waiting with 5 million dollars. Hanzo had personal goals he needed completed. Sins and debts settled. While Hanzo felt bad— _terrible_ —guilty, ashamed, about using McCree's expertise without telling him the truth he hadn't wanted to risk McCree telling him no on this job. So Hanzo lied. And prayed it wouldn't blow up in his face later.

“I told you to stop sticking yourself in my business.” Hanzo said.

“And normally I would ag—I'm not actually gonna—I know it was a bad joke! I'm—I'm on the phone! I'll say sorry in a minute!”

“I'm going to hang up so you can apologize to your partners properly for your terrible sense of humor.”

“Don't you dare. McCree is my best friend and if you want to live in the past then that's your business and I won't try to stop you. But what's done is done and I don't want you dragging him into this. He's told me about how you already have the family following you around.”

'The family'. Like Genji hadn't been born into it as well. Hanzo scoffed. “That is not my doing. The blame for that lies at Sojiro's feet and you know it.”

“McCree is innocent. If he's going to be involved in saving our mother the least you can do is tell him the truth about what he's actually doing. You told him you have a buyer lined up. He thinks he's getting money out of this, brother.”

Guilt welled up inside Hanzo and threatened to swallow him whole. The past two weeks he had become familiar with the feeling. “I need help to do this. I can't do it alone.”

“If you can't do it alone you shouldn't do it at all. It's a sign, Hanzo. One your ignoring.”

“Our mother deserves better than the fate that was handed to her.”

“You're making a mistake.”

“How could you say that when she died for you?”

“There is _nothing_ left of our mother. Your chasing shadows and pulling McCree in with you. Blindly.”

“He knows about the clan. Isn't that enough?” Hanzo winced. Even to his ears that didn't sound right.

“And if this was about killing what's left of the clan I would advocate bringing McCree along. I'd be more then willing to help you myself even. But you don't want to go after the clan. You want to do this the—No, Zen, I'm not coming out of retirement! I swear! Wait!”

“I'm going to hang up now.”

“Fine. But either leave McCree out of it or tell him the truth.” The call ended abruptly. Hanzo wanted to crush his phone. He already felt guilty enough for dragging McCree into the blood soaked mess that was his life. What did Genji know of any of it? He was retired. He had a stable home and two partners to shower him in love. He knew nothing of loss or grief. He had never met their mother.

Hanzo could feel eyes on his back. He didn't bother to check who it was. He knew it was someone from the clan. Ever since he had shown interest in retrieving the amulet they had become relentless in tracking him. They'd kept an eye on him before but not to this degree. If agents he had captured and questioned were to be believed they wanted him alive.

It was too crowded for Hanzo to find an alley to duck into and take care of the problem. His stalker would have to follow him home. He clenched and unclenched his hands. Hanzo hated waiting. Even if it was to crush an assassin's skull against his kitchen counter.

A few minutes later McCree jogged up to him, a backpack slung over one shoulder, still wearing his nice clothes that made him look. . .handsome The word Hanzo was looking for was handsome. He shoved the sentiment back down where it came from.

“What's wrong, sugar? You look stiff.” McCree asked. He enveloped Hanzo into a hug that smelled like a starchy pressed shirt and pinewood cologne.

“We have a visitor.” Hanzo said.

“Again? That's the fifth one this week. Kinda odd.” McCree let go of Hanzo and the two went trudging along through the evening crowds. They kept close, arms touching. “Somethin' you're not telling me?”

“Of course not,” Hanzo lied. “I'm sorry.”

“Don't be. Not your fault you were born into a mixed bag of crazy. Anyhow, did you see the amulet?

“Yes. This job will be easy enough.”

“You think so? I put a couple thousand in this job. It'd be nice if it's an easy payout.”

“I was more then willing to put up the money to fund us.”

“Nonsense. It don't matter none. I'll earn it all back, right?”

“I suppose,” Shame tapped up Hanzo's spine. “How was an honest day's work?”

“ _Terrible_. I think I'm gonna need a vacation after this job. A proper New Years celebration since we're working this Christmas.”

“Pick a place to celebrate and we will. I don't understand. You've only been working there a week. How can it possibly be so bad?”

“There's _office drama_. People fightin' and breakin' up. Ain't as peaceful as when it's just us two.” McCree bent his head toward Hanzo, soft smiled, eyes kind. “Ain't you lucky you ain't doing this part?”

“I don't need luck. Why do you think I work with you in the first place? It certainly wasn't for your sloppy infiltration technique.”

“Hey! Some of us don't have fancy gloves and ninja training. Have pity on me, darlin'. I couldn't fit through a window or an air vent if I tried.”

Hanzo snorted and pushed McCree out of his personal space. The pair walked back to their safe house; well aware they had a visitor watching them carefully.

The moment they walked through the front door they began the ritual of taking off their shoes and coats. McCree threw himself on the threadbare couch while Hanzo moved into the kitchen to start dinner. Their safe house was an apartment in an older building in desperate need of renovation. But it was close to their target and had all the utilities needed to get by.

“I'm thinking chili. I don't want to make something complicated.” Hanzo said.

“You cook whatever you want to. You know I'll eat it. Leave the dishes in the sink and I'll get to them.”

“Are you in the mood for spice?” Hanzo began to chop whatever leftover vegetables they had in the fridge for the chili. The sound of the knife against the cutting board was rhythmic and soothing.

“You and I have very different definitions of spice.”

“You like your mouth to be on fire you mean.”

“You can't ask a man if he's in the mood for spice and put in a pinch of pepper. Next you're gonna tell me ketchup is spicy.”

“This is the real reason you can bare to eat my cooking. You've burned out your taste buds.”

“Nonsense, your cooking is fine. Why are you washing the cutting board? Put it down, I'll wash it.”

“You just came home from work. Let me do it.” Hanzo said.

McCree rolled off the couch and walked to the kitchen. He gently wedged the cutting board out of his friend's hands and began to wash it himself. “I'm not so tired I can't help.”

When they were like this, winding down at the end of the day, tired but working together to get dinner ready, it felt domestic. Like they'd been doing it their whole life and this was the way they were meant to live. Hanzo looked over at McCree. He tried not to get caught up in the way his arms looked with his shirt sleeves rolled up, or the stupid face he made while scrubbing the cutting board, but all of it was such a comfort. McCree was. . .special to him. He couldn't help but stare until it became obvious he was staring.

“Somethin' wrong? Besides you burning the meat.” McCree asked. He leaned over to the stove to turn the heat down.

“No. Don't turn the fire down, I want this to cook faster.”

“Your nose is gonna grow from fibbin'. I know somethin' ain't right. And learn some patience. You're only gonna burn the food.”

Hanzo shrugged. McCree didn't question him further.

“Hey, it's been a year, right?” McCree asked.

It took Hanzo a moment to figure out what he meant. His sobriety. He hadn't picked up a bottle of liquor in a year. He hadn't realized today was the day. Hanzo felt. . .pride. Satisfied with himself. Happy. It was a nice break from the negative tide of emotions inside him lately.

“Yes. It's been a year.”

McCree smiled. He coated his hand with water and flicked it at Hanzo.

"Hey!”

”I'm proud of you.” McCree said. “I know it hasn't been easy.”

“Yeah. It hasn't.”

For the first two years of their partnership Hanzo had been a bit of a mess. Mostly drunk and mostly angry. His breaking point had been when he'd been do drunk to drive McCree to the hospital after a heist gone wrong. To say quitting had been difficult would be an understatement. It had been two years of Hanzo getting on and off the wagon until sobriety stuck.

“I'm sure Genji would be proud too if you told him how long it's been now.”

Hanzo scoffed. “He would only tell me his five years beats my one. Have you congratulated him on his five years yet? I believe it happened a few weeks ago.”

“Oh shit! I'll be right back.” McCree rushed out of the kitchen, pulling his phone out and wiping his wet hands on his pants.

Hanzo shook his head knowingly. His friend was a fool. When McCree was gone, his bedroom door shut, Hanzo turned the stove off.

“You can come out now. There is no reason to prolong this any further.” Hanzo said.

The assassin came out from the darkness of the space between the kitchen and the bathroom.

Hanzo didn't waste time with questions or warnings. In one fluid motion he picked up the knife he'd been using to cut vegetables and ducked as the assassin attempted a kick. He came back up and plunged the knife into the assassin's throat. They made a horrible gurgling sound and crumpled dead on the kitchen floor. Hanzo's hands covered in blood.

This was what he was pulling McCree into. Secrecy and blood. His body could hardly contain his guilt but there was no other way. Hanzo pulled the kitchen knife out of the assassin's neck and wondered if McCree would ever forgive him.

* * *

“I think he's keeping something from me.” McCree said. His call with Genji done, McCree called his father. Gabriel Reyes was proud of the man his son had become and was happy to support him. Even if 'support' meant listening to him whine constantly about his work partner.

“Then ask him about it.” Gabriel said.

“But, what if he doesn't wanna talk about it?”

Gabriel sighed. “Then don't take my advice. I don't know what to tell you. Just tell him how you feel already. You're acting like a teenager.”

McCree groaned. His father wasn't exactly wrong. “It's never the right time to tell him. He's killing one of those assassins right now. He waited till I left the room. Think he forgets I have ears.”

“Sounds like his family is being real persistent lately. You sure you don't want me to lend a hand?”

McCree loved his father very much but he knew Gabriel's morals were even muddier then his own, and him 'lending a hand' would likely result in a bloodbath that would end up on the nightly news. “No thanks, Pa. I'm good.”

“Alright, _mijo_. I'll leave you to it then. Just tell him already and stop complaining about it. It's never gonna be the right time. You have to make that time yourself.”

“Thanks, Pa.” McCree ended the call. He held his head in his hands and breathed deeply, gathering himself before helping Hanzo dispose of the dead body in the kitchen.

* * *

The night was tepid and cloudless. Not optimal conditions for committing crimes but it would have to do. Hanzo had been hoping for colder, cloudy weather. It was Christmas eve night and the Vatican was holding mass. With the sounds of worship as cover the pair would be able to sneak in and out without worrying about noise.

Hanzo put on his night vision goggles, followed by his suction cup gloves. The industrial suction cups looked like blue microbeads on the palms and fingers of the gloves. Hanzo was always amazed they did exactly what Satya told him they would do. He attached the matching suction cup shoe soles to the bottom of his shoes and began to crawl up the north facing wall of St. Peter's Basilica. In the wide, tall shadows the wall created he made his way to the second story of the building. From there Hanzo crawled into the divot of the main archway and waited under the cover of darkness for McCree to arrive.

“Can you see me?” McCree asked. There comms were tiny things stuck to their inner earlobes. To Hanzo McCree's words felt like a whisper.

“Yes.”

Hanzo watched McCree walk into the basilica and began to climb out from the top of the archway and into the building. The ceiling was domed and made of gold. Patterned off into decorative squares with details so small it was fascinating to see up close. The domed ceiling didn't give Hanzo much cover, but he'd known it wouldn't. He had Satya, again, to thank for the back of his tactical jacket. It shimmered and changed based on his surroundings. There was no doubt in his mind the back of his jacket was gold right now. Hanzo tried his best not to ruin the delicate walls as he kept pace with McCree.

Below McCree moved with slow reverence alongside the other Mass attendees. Organ music flooded the space, and the smell of incense was cloying. Clergy members in ceremonial robes lingered alongside attendees. Hanzo could not deny that the space felt holy. However, it didn't make him feel bad for what they were about to do.

“I'm in. 'Finding my phone' now in progress.” McCree's voice came in low through their comms.

“Understood.” Hanzo said. He watched McCree break off from fellow worshipers and move toward the back of the basilica, on the far side of St. Peter's tomb. Hanzo followed as quickly as he could, crawling along the ceiling in an awkward leggy shimmy that made him feel like a spider without enough legs.

“You notice something weird?” McCree asked.

“No. What is it?” Hanzo asked.

“There's supposed to be more security guards stationed at the entrance into the museum. I only see one.”

Hanzo felt a cold pit of dread drop into his stomach. “Maybe we are just lucky.”

“I doubt that.”

“Excuse me, sir?” McCree asked the only security guard on duty. Behind him the crowd of people grew, eagerly awaited for Mass to begin. When the organ music stopped and the Pope began to speak the crowd went silent.

“If you would please, sir. This area is off limits.” The security guard whispered as to not disturb service.

“I understand but, I work in the museum,” McCree took his work ID out of his pocket and showed it to the security guard. “I'm really sorry about this but I need to step in for a second. I forgot my cell phone here yesterday, I think I left it in the break room.“ McCree crowded into the guard's space forcing him into the hallway by half a step.

“Sir, I'm sorry. If you could go through the front door? I'm sure you'll be let in there, but I've been told to keep this hallway empty.”

Hanzo sighed. They needed to hurry up. They did not have all night to get through the door.

“I know, and I'm sorry for doing this to you, but I went to the front door and there was no one there. The door's locked and I'm not exactly important enough to have access to keys.”

The security guard looked anxiously over McCree's shoulder at the Pope holding mass. “Where did you say your phone was? If you can retrieve it quickly maybe I can make an exception.”

“In the break room. I'm a tour guide and I know I left my phone at the break table right before I left for the day.”

Hanzo didn't have time for this. The organ music started up again and the congregation broke into song. Hanzo reached onto his back and snapped his bow open. He fired a sedative arrow at the guard and watched him go down like a sack of bricks. The thwack of the security guard's body hitting marble was hidden under the sounds of celebration.

McCree looked up at Hanzo, his handsome face a confused angry mess. He took hold of the guards unconscious body and dragged him into the darkness of the hallway. Hanzo followed behind on the ceiling, climbing through the top of the doorway and making his way down to the floor inside the empty hallway.

“What the hell!” McCree whispered. He had the guard by the armpits, his legs dragging on the floor at an odd angle that he would most definitely feel in the morning.

“It was taking too long. Now we've moved forward.”

“We had a _plan_. Stick to it, why don't you? If you'd a kept hold of your horse's for a second longer he'd a let me in.”

“I am sticking to the plan. This was a slight improvisation. Nothing more. That looks like a broom closet.” Hanzo looked around the hallway to make sure it was empty before daring to open a door to what appeared to be a broom closet.

“It is a broom closet.” Hanzo said.

McCree put the unconscious security guard on the broom closet floor as gently as he could. “We don't got long before someone notices he's missing.” McCree pat the guard down for any keys, radios, or other objects of use that could help them move forward before he thought better of it and began to undress the man.

“I admit I did not think of that when I shot him.” Hanzo said.

McCree looked up from his task to shoot Hanzo a thoroughly annoyed look. “It's cause sometimes you don't think at all.”

McCree began the process of undressing and Hanzo snuck glances of McCree's muscled chest before exiting the closet and closing the door to give him privacy.

“I think we've got maybe five minutes to get in and get out.” McCree whispered into their comms. “They probably already know this guy is gone. Someone's gotta come looking for him, and from there it's only a matter of time before they figure out someone’s in the museum.”

“That sounds like worry to me, McCree. I thought we were too experienced to worry.”

“I'm not worrying. Just making sure we both know we don't got a lot of time. Huh. This sucker only has five euros on him. Should I take them?”

“Yes.”

“Your the devil sittin' on my shoulder, you know that?”

Hanzo snorted. “I am far too big to sit on your shoulder.”

“You know exactly what I meant.” McCree exit the broom closet. The security guard's uniform was snug over McCree's chest and fit strangely over his legs but from a distance Hanzo figured it would look fine.

“Handsome. As expected.” Hanzo looked over McCree shoulder, completely missing McCree's blush.

“You put your clothes on the security guard?” Hanzo asked.

“Well, I didn't want him to come to naked. He ain't done nothing wrong, was just unlucky.”

Hanzo felt his heart fill to burst. He tried to keep his emotions off his face and as a precaution he turned away from his partner. How lucky he was to know a strange man like McCree.

“Let's move forward, shall we?”

“'Course. But, something's not right here.”

“What do you mean?”

“Up there.” McCree pointed to a security camera in the corner of the broom closet. “It's off. I mean I'm glad its off but it shouldn't be.”

Hanzo looked where McCree pointed. There was a camera and it was in fact off. It drooped downward uselessly and any indicating lights weren't blinking.

“What do you think it means?”

“That either the Vatican is certain no one would try anything on a holiday or someone else might be having plans along the same lines as we are.”

Hanzo's blood went cold. He tried to shake the sensation off but it wouldn't go away. He couldn't help but think that this was all leading into a trap. “We can't call this off over a security camera.”

“I know. I'm just telling you where I'm at is all. Let's get going.”

They moved silently side by side down the hallway until they came to a crossroads between exhibits.

“Left.” McCree whispered. They moved into the left hallway and even here they could hear sounds of worship echoing through the halls. They walked into a room of artifacts laid out on shelves. Pottery and mundane items used in day to day life hundreds of years ago.

“Do you hear that?” Hanzo asked. McCree stopped walking. It was a straight hallway with no one else in view.

“No. You think someone is comin' our way?”

“Yes.”

“Get in front of me. Sorry if I get a little rough.”

“It's fine. Just get us to where we need to be.”

McCree took hold of Hanzo's arms and held them behind his back. The footsteps got louder, a security guard appeared from around the corner. McCree tightened his grip on Hanzo and shoved him forward in a way that made Hanzo stumble over his own feet.

 _“This one tried to sneak in. I'm escorting him out._ ” McCree said to the guard in Italian.

_“I'm not surprised. We're understaffed today. Even for Christmas eve. Feels like everyone called in sick. Do you need help?”_

_“No, thank you. I can handle it._

_“Are you certain? It's no trouble.”_

Hanzo looked over his shoulder at McCree and played the part of the troublemaker. He squirmed in McCree's grip and stomped his feet. McCree held onto him tighter, put pressure on his arms until he stopped. Hanzo huffed indignantly and stood still.

_“I can handle one hooligan. I wouldn't want to bother you. Have a good night. Merry Christmas.”_

_“If you insist. . . If you need help I won't be far. Merry Christmas”_

McCree and Hanzo turned the corner and McCree let go of Hanzo's arms.

They made it down the rest of the appropriate hallways under McCree's direction. They came up to the room holding the amulet quickly. Even at this distance they could hear Mass being held, the sounds of music and singing echoing strangely off the museum walls. Hanzo walked over to the display case while McCree checked all exits in and out of the room to make sure they were all empty.

“This is another room with the camera's shut down.” McCree said.

Hanzo looked. “They are. What do you want to do about it?”

“I'm not sure, but this is bad news Han.” McCree said.

Hanzo got out his lockpicks and went to work.

“What are you gonna do with the money when we get this thing to the buyer? It's five million between us, right?” McCree asked.

Hanzo felt like he was going to be sick. The weight of his lies too much for him.“I don't know.”

“You don't know? Since when?” McCree chuckled. “Always got some place you wanna go. Some food you wanna try. And it's always all expensive. You've got one hell of an expensive palate. There's rich yakuza princes and then there's you.”

“Says the man who wanted to, what was it? Bathe in mud?”

“It was a mud bath! We were at a spa! You make it sound like I found a puddle outside and started swimin' in it.”

Hanzo snorted. “I'll give you my half of the five million to see that.”

“Deal. At least between the two of us I won't waste all the money on fancy scarves and small portions of expensive meat. Holy shit did you see that?”

“No. What was it?”

“Something moved. Down the hall. I'm gonna go check.”

“Don't.” Fear crawled up Hanzo's spine. Shadows jumping in the dark confirmed his worries. They weren't alone.

“What do you mean don't?”

“Not alone.”

“Then you're coming with me.”

“I'm busy.”

The pair were silent as Hanzo continued to pick the lock on the display case.

“I think we're in the middle of something we've got no business being in. I'm considerin' calling it a night.”

“Don't. We're right here. We're almost done.”

“I know my eyes aren't as good as yours but I swear I just saw five people dart from one hallway to the next. Something's about to go down.”

“It's not.”

“You know what it is, don't you? I know your not givin' me a hard time for the sake of it.”

Hanzo looked up from his work to give McCree an irritated look. He could see McCree connecting the dots. It was all coming together for him and when it did McCree would hate him.

“What makes you think I have anything to do with it?” Hanzo asked.

“Whatever's going on, you can tell me.”

Hanzo didn't answer. He did his best to focus on the lock.

“It's got to do with the amulet, don't it? You and your family and this amulet. I'm not stupid, Hanzo. I can put two and two together. You and your family didn't start acting funny till this job.”

“Nonsense.”

“What don't you want me to know about the amulet? Did the buyer say anything about competition?”

“No.”

“Hanzo, take me seriously.”

“I always take you seriously. . .”

The display case unlocked with a click. In the background McCree kept talking, his words becoming more urgent but to Hanzo the world only consisted of himself and the amulet. He took it into his hand and was immediately overwhelmed.

Finally. _Finally_. Hanzo ran his hands across the small brass amulet. At first glance the crystal studding looked like a cross, but Hanzo knew better. He'd seen the amulet when it hadn't been scratched or scuffed or forged into something ancient-seeming. Who ever had forged the amulet's appearance had done a sloppy job. When Hanzo ran his fingers over the brass case he could still feel the divots where a crystal dragon used to be. The holes hadn't been sanded over properly. Hanzo opened the amulet. Crumbled dust and dirt coated his fingers when it opened. Inside was a lock of thick black hair tied together with thin, green thread. Gently, _gently_ , Hanzo ran his thumb over the hair. It was soft and familiar. He could feel something warm and overwhelming build inside of him. The echoing sound of a voice he could barely remember and—

“—anzo!” McCree whispered loudly. “Are you listenin' to me?”

“There's supposed to be an emerald in here.” Hanzo whispered back. He ran his thumb over the lock of hair just one more time before closing the amulet. “The amulet is incomplete. It's missing the emerald. I have to find the rest.”

“We're not finding the rest of nothing. We needa put this thing back. I don't know who else is after it but it's not worth the headache. I'm not feelin' to be chased down for it. We don't need the 5 million that badly.”

“It's too late. We're already here. We might as well take it.” Hanzo wrapped the brass chain of the amulet around his fingers.

“Han, look at me, won't you?” McCree's whispering became even more strained.

Hanzo looked up at McCree. McCree's face was twisted into a wince. He put his hands on Hanzo's shoulder and leaned into his friend's space. This close Hanzo could smell his sweat and cologne, see flecks of lighter browns in his eyes.

“Please, Han. I don't know what this is but it's something bigger then just stealing some amulet. I don't wanna get involved with it. I don't want you involved in it. You're already in so much shit with you family and whatever shit involved with this amulet isn't worth money.”

Hanzo's eyes traced over the amulet where the crystal dragon used to be.“We've already agreed to steal it. We—we have a buyer to think of.” Hanzo put the necklace around his neck. He hid the amulet under his shirt and savored the coolness of the metal against his skin. “We're leaving here with it.”

“Hanzo!” McCree's voice trembled to remain a whisper. “I've got this feeling like it'll be the end of something if that necklace leaves this building.”

Hanzo could feel his stomach plummet onto the mosaic tiled floor. McCree would never forgive him for this. If he was going to lose a friend he might as well get what he came here for.”

It's already been decided. We _agreed_.”

“And now we don't. Put the damn thing back.”

“We. Agreed.” Hanzo's face curled in anger. McCree didn't flinch.

“You can't tell me this job feels normal.”

“I. Don't. Care. About how this _feels_.”

Footsteps rung out from a the courtyard. More than one person. Their footfalls were nearly silent, their steps in unison. “Someone's coming.”

“Hanzo.” McCree took hold of Hanzo's face. His hands clammy on Hanzo's already sweaty face. Hanzo couldn't feel his heart beating. His chest felt numb. He couldn't do this. He couldn't do this to McCree. He couldn't do this to Jesse. Was any of this worth it?

“Please. I'm begging you.” McCree wiped at the sweat dripping down Hanzo's temple. He smiled a sad, pained smile.

Hanzo was a fool. His brother was right. He should have done this alone. He should have taken on the risk of retrieving the amulet _by himself_. Instead he had doubted himself. And now McCree was looking at him with sad bronze-brown eyes and a stressed frown. He made McCree look at him this way. His friend. The man he claimed was his partner in crime. Hanzo became so absorbed with looking into McCree's eyes he barely caught a knife hurtling toward his head.

“Christ!” McCree threw himself on the ground and took Hanzo with him. A barrage of knives came flying behind them and embedded themselves in the fresco wall.

With the necklace around his neck Hanzo's hands were free to get his bow off his back and fire a volley of returning arrows. He aimed using his best guess on sound and the cascading shadows of their assailant's figures. He heard more than one person gurgling in their own blood and two smacking thumps of bodies hitting the floor.

“It's the clan, ain't it?” McCree asked. Final realization bloomed and clicked together inside of McCree but he kept it to himself. There would be time later.

Hanzo lowered his goggles over his head and flipped on the night vision.

“It would seem.” With his goggles on Hanzo's aim improved. One, two, three, down another twelve to go.

Another set of knives rushed past them. This time one embedding itself in McCree's prosthetic. Sparks flew out from exposed wires and torn synthetic flesh.

“McCree we have to leave.” Hanzo said.

“Are you gonna tell me water's wet next?” McCree pulled out the knife in his arm and tossed it on the ground. McCree un-holstered his gun and clicked the safety off.

Hanzo spared a second to catch McCree's eye. “Did you know, McCree. That water is wet?” 

“You test my patience in all kinds a ways. I swear.” McCree said.

“Cover your eyes.” Hanzo said.

Without hesitation McCree closed and covered his eyes. Hanzo fired an arrow into the crowd of twelve and it exploded into eye-searing light. Hanzo took hold of McCree's arm and the two of them ran from underneath the display cases.

They rushed down the hall and crashed into a gate separating the different exhibits.

“Anyone ever tell these guys that murder ain't always the answer?” McCree fired behind him none of his shots landing.

“You wouldn't want to see their problem solving skills if you forbid them murder.”

More footfalls. This time from in front of them. Hanzo looked to see who it was. Policemen. Heading there way with flashlights and noise and fanfare.

“We're a little fucked here.” McCree said as he started to look around for an exit. He turned toward the nearest clear corridor. It was filled with ancient vases and a locked gate at the end. He could feel cold air coming from down the hall and decided it was worth the risk of being cornered. He took hold of Hanzo's hand and pulled him down the hallway at full speed.

“Han! Gate!” McCree yelled.

“On it!” Hanzo felt around for the proper arrow, aimed and fired. The gate opened with the pop-crackle-boom of an explosion.

They burst through the gateway and into the courtyard and stopped dead. The tepid air whipped around them, and the sounds of Christmas eve mass became louder. Both Hanzo and McCree looked around for a viable escape route but there were only wide open spaces with nothing to hide behind. Behind them they could hear the police and yakuza running into one another. The echos of gunshots, screaming and footsteps scuffing up the exhibit room flooring. The commotion behind them only got louder with each second they wasted looking for the best route out.

“We didn't plan this very well.” Hanzo said.

McCree's gaze turned toward the roof of the museum.

“Goin' up.” McCree holstered his gun. He took out a grappling gun and wrapped his free arm around Hanzo's waist. He pulled Hanzo close and Hanzo put his arms around McCree's neck purely out of necessity. If his breath caught from being so close to McCree no one had to know. McCree aimed carefully and shot up at the nearest chimney he had a good sight line on and the pair went zipping up toward the roof. The sounds of fighting spilled out into courtyard behind them.

The grappling hook could only pull them so far. Hanzo let go of McCree to pull himself onto the roof. McCree followed, retracting the grappling hook and holstering it back on his person. They took off in a run down the roof, toward the basilica.

“Now what?” McCree asked. The metallic beating whoosh of a police helicopter rumbled over head.

“You've gotta be shittin' me.” McCree said.

Hanzo looked over the side of the roof leaning toward an alleyway outside of the Vatican. The sound of singing became louder the closer they got to the basilica.

“I'm going to do something very dumb.” Hanzo said.

“We're in the middle of doing something dumb. Can't get no dumber.”

Hanzo grabbed hold of McCree's waist with both hands. He pulled McCree close to him and using their forward momentum swung the both of them off the museum roof and into the alleyway.

Time slowed down and all Hanzo could smell was whiskey, leather, and cologne. Hanzo went into his back pocket and took out the two thumb-sized disks Satya had given him just in case. He felt like a failure for needing them, but he slapped both on to McCree's back and they stuck instantly. The discs buzzed to life emitting soft blue light. McCree put his hands around Hanzo and dug his fingers into Hanzo's jacket. Hanzo could hear McCree's breath catch, his fingers digging into him so hard they dug into his spine. Their descent stopped just short of the cobblestone ground. They hovered in midair. Hanzo's on top of McCree. Time kicked back up and McCree gave Hanzo a miffed glare before pushing him away.

There was shouting. The police yelling that they've jumped off the roof and to convene in the alleyway. Hanzo stood perfectly still and as close to McCree as he could get without further pissing off his partner.

“What's your play here, Han? We can't just stand here.”

“We can. Shush.”

Police poured out of nearby alleyways, their flashlights scanning the area in methodical patterns. McCree unholstered his gun and prepared to aim, but Hanzo put his palm up against the muzzle and his finger against McCree's lips.

“Quiet.” Hanzo whispered.

Hanzo pressed himself against McCree's side and held his breath. Police officers swarmed around them like flies. They buzzed around the area flashing lights and guns around them but their eyes glazed over Hanzo and McCree's position.

“Area Clear! Targets not found! Scan the perimeter.” One of them shouted out. The officers scattered and Hanzo let go of his breath.

“As long as we're quiet they can't see us.” Hanzo whispered.

“Satya?”

“And Torbjorn, yes. I believe they worked on it together. Just don't take the machinery off your back until we're away from here.”

“Remind me to give 'em a nice Christmas gift.”

The city was cool, a breeze blew by every now and then. It helped to cool the pair off from the excitement of the night. The pair move briskly down the predetermined roads they'd chosen as their escape route. When they got to the fountain they stopped. Just as planned.

Hanzo took off the necklace to look at it one more time. After years of planning and practicing and sacrifice it was _finally_ in his hands. Not all of it, not the important parts, but more then he had this morning.

McCree holstered his gun. He turned toward Hanzo, his face contoured into something Hanzo had never seen before.

“You almost got us killed.” McCree's voice was low and dangerous like Hanzo had never heard before. —How had he? When had he? The heist had been no more dangerous than normal. Hanzo felt dread curl in his stomach.

“I did no such thing. We followed the plan.”

“I told you to leave the necklace there and that we were getting in over our head. It's our _rule_. The minute I said we were getting in over our head you should have dropped the goddamn necklace and let your family have it.”

“We were already there. I had the necklace in my hand.”

“And we could have went back for it later. With a better plan then sneak in and pray. Instead we got chased out by the yakuza and the goddamn police.”

“It had to happen tonight.”

“Why?”

Hanzo looked down at the necklace. The knot of dread in his stomach continued to expand until he knew he was a moment away from being swallowed by it. He looked back at McCree. 5 years of partnership was about to end.

“It was my mother's necklace.” Hanzo said.

McCree looked wide eyed at Hanzo. “Are you really trying to tell me your mother was Mary, Mother of Christ?”

“No. My mother's name was Asumi Shimada. She was murdered when I was three. And this is her necklace.”

“Hanzo, don't tell me this nonsense. Why aren't you telling me the _truth_?”

“It is the truth.”

McCree covered his face with his hand. He began to chuckle. Humorless. Ugly. “Are you telling me you went against not one of our rules but two?”

Hanzo held tight onto the necklace.

“We've only got two rules, Hanzo and you broke both of 'em.”

“I knew you wouldn't help me so—”

“—You never had a buyer lined up, did you? And the overhead costs? The thousands I've spent on this job? How were you planning on making up for that?”

Hanzo scowled at the fountain.

“Are you gonna answer me?” McCree asked.

“No. There was never a buyer.”

McCree laughed again. He ran both hands over his face and sighed.

“I'm sorry.” Hanzo said.

“Sorry doesn't even begin to cut it. We've got those two rules for a reason. So shit like this doesn't happen. You say you trust me but you can't respect me enough to tell me why you were really after this thing? You lied and tricked me into this job, _stole_ **my** money to carry it through and have the nerve to think sorry is even going to come close? What? 5 years of working together mean nothing to you? After all we been through this is how you treat me? Like I'm some two-bit thug you picked up off the street? A disposable body to shield you from the dangerous shit you didn't think I was worth enough to know? No, fuck you, darlin'. I'm gonna need more than a sorry.”

Hanzo stood with his mouth wired shut. He could feel McCree waiting for him to say something. _Anything_. But he couldn't think of something that would make McCree see his point of view. Instead Hanzo braced himself for the inevitable.

It was silent but for the sound of the fountain and McCree's harsh angry breaths.

“So this is where we say goodbye then.” McCree said.

Hanzo opened his mouth to say goodbye but what came out was: “Are you sure this is what you want? To end this here? What of the expenses?”

“I'll let you handle it. Seems you were following your own plan to begin with. I'm sure you've got everything covered.” McCree sneered.

McCree left Hanzo standing in the plaza, alone, and clutching the necklace.

Hanzo had to leave Rome. Whatever possessions still in the safe house weren't important enough for him to collect. He needed to leave Rome _now_.

Traveling was a blur he could barely remember, and when got to Spain and found himself in a liquor store, he wasn't surprised he was adding one more awful decision to the pile. Yet another reason he did not deserve McCree in his life.

* * *

When Hanzo stumbled through Genji's back door his brother wasn't even surprised. He looked up from stirring something sweet smelling on the stove, took one glance at his brother's bruised, slumping body and went back to stirring.

“What have you done this time, brother?” Genji asked.

“I have done nothing. Take this from me please.” Hanzo stumbled over to his brother and thrust a paper bag into his hands. Genji looked inside the bag.

“I'm proud of you, Hanzo.” Genji said. He took the bottle of rum out of the bag and poured it down the kitchen drain.

“There's nothing to be proud of. I couldn't stop myself from buying it.” Hanzo dumped himself onto a seat at the kitchen table and melted into the tabletop.

“But you didn't drink it! That's progress and I am very proud. What are you doing here by the way? I thought you were in Rome with McCree.”

Hanzo smooshed his face into the table and groaned. “I've ruined everything.”

“Surely not everything. Even you can't manage that, brother.” Genji speared an apple with a stick from the collection of apples he had lined up next to a clean baking pan. He stuck the apple into the bubbling concoction on the stove.

“Jesse found out it wasn't a real job.”

“Did he now?”

“He was furious.” Hanzo said into the table.

“I can imagine.”

Hanzo sat up properly and scowled at Genji. “He came here didn't he?”

“He got here first, yes.”

Hanzo let himself slump back down. “What did he tell you?”

“Most everything. About how the two of you had such a great time in Rome, and how he thought you and him were in 'a groove'. He went on and on about how efficient the two of you are together and how heartbroken he was that you lied to him and how could you lie to him and he just went _on and on and on_ about how he doesn't know why you didn't trust him."

Hanzo groaned loudly. “I've ruined _everything._ ”

“You're both so dramatic.” Genji put the now caramel coated apple on the baking sheet to dry. He speared another apple and began the process again. “Does that mean you'll be spending New Years with me?”

“Where else would I be spending it.”

“Maybe making it up to McCree. He said he's going back to his home in the United States to spend some time thinking things over. Did you know he has a ranch?”

“The emerald wasn't in the amulet.”

Genji stopped putting an apple inside the bubbling pot his arm hovering mid-dip. The kitchen went quiet until Genji broke the silence with a humorless chuckle. “So you broke his trust for nothing.”

“Not for noth—“

“He's my best friend, Hanzo.”

Hanzo sat properly in the chair now. His full attention on his brother and not the countless mistakes he's made in the past week.

“I know.”

“I wonder if you do. Sometimes. He was there for me when no one else was. When you were—having your own trouble. And I was lost. I owe him much.”

“I know.” Hanzo bit out through clenched teeth.

“He showed me what life was like without the clan. It pains me to see him hurt.”

Hanzo's first reaction was to lash out. To ask Genji was he not his brother? Has he not gone through the same pain? The same struggle of becoming an adult under the brutality of the clan? Did he not shield him from the worst of it? Is he not deserving of his brother's compassion? And then Hanzo took a deep breath. He noticed the still tenseness of his brother's shoulders and took another breath.

He couldn't do this to his brother. He already disappointed McCree. There was no reason he couldn't avoid doing the same to Genji.

Sitting in his brother's kitchen the single-minded fog in Hanzo's mind began to clear. For the past two weeks he had only seen a opportunity to complete his own goals. He'd treated the ones closest to him like obstacles to overcome or tools to use. The realization made him sick.

Genji and McCree deserved better. And he would have to give them better.

The kitchen was silence while Hanzo collected his thoughts.

“I know it hurts you to see him in pain. And I'm sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?”

“For putting both you and McCree through unnecessary pain. I needed to. . .communicate my feelings and intentions with you both. And I didn't. And for that I am sorry.”

Genji went statue still. The air became solid with tension, and Hanzo could barely breathe.

“ _Anija_?” Genji dumped his apple in the pot and turned toward Hanzo. He crossed the kitchen in a few confident strides and enveloped his brother in a caramel scented hug that nearly sent Hanzo into a panic attack.

“I'm so proud of you.”

“Stop it! Get away from me! You're insufferable!”

“Aw, I know you love me! You've come such a long way!”

Hanzo pushed Genji off of him and ignored the smile Genji gave him.

“So,” Genji asked, “what are you going to do about McCree?”

“I don't know. I think—“ Hanzo felt himself blush, but the words needed to be said. It would most likely be the first and last time he said them. “I think I love him.”

Genji took a seat at the kitchen table next to Hanzo. “Took you long enough.”

“I've known. I've been. . .“

“I know. You need to tell him.”

“I will apologize to him and see if he accepts first. I don't think we're in a place where I should tell him how I feel.”

Genji nodded. “Are you gonna bring him an apology gift? He likes blueberry pie. It's his favorite.”

Hanzo blushed and glared at the blue-tiled floor.

“I'm not baking the cow-fool a pie.”

Finding a motel equip with a kitchen out in the deserts of the southwest United States was nearly impossible but not nearly as impossible as attempting to find a pre-baked pie. Unsurprisingly, as blueberries were out of season, no one sold anything remotely blueberry flavored. So Hanzo was stuck buying out of season blueberries at a supermarket and baking a pie himself. He cooked down the berries and sugar. He made pie dough with his hands and prayed the mostly broken oven worked well enough to make the pie dough flaky and thoroughly cooked.

Hanzo got in the crappy sedan he rented under a fake name and buckled his saran wrapped pie into the passenger seat. He typed the address Genji had given him into his phone's GPS and prayed his brother was telling him the truth and not setting him up for some sort of prank.

In all the time Hanzo and McCree had worked together Hanzo hadn't known McCree had a home. He assumed McCree was transient like himself. They were together most of the time, hardly ever taking breaks from one another. And in their time together they only rented motel rooms or when the occasion called for it camped out in remote spots.

Besides, Hanzo enjoyed filling his bank account and barely spending any of it save the occasional indulgent purchase. McCree apparently didn't share the same philosophy. He had a whole ranch. Hanzo wondered if McCree kept animals. If he actually herded cattle and sold them off for beef. He couldn't possibly have time to do so, but maybe he hired people to run the ranch while he was gone.

Hanzo rolled down the empty road, he saw a long stretch of broken sun bleached fence and a one-story home sitting in the distance. The blood-red sunset behind him. McCree's sorry excuse of a truck was parked in a lean-to garage. So far no sign of McCree himself.

Hanzo drove as far as the road let him, and angled the car for an easy U-turn. Hanzo wanted a quick getaway if things went as bad as he believed they would. He took the pie from the passenger seat and walked up the front porch of McCree's house. Hanzo took a deep breath. He was not a weak man. He could do this. It was only an apology. He walked up to the door and pressed the doorbell.

It was quiet for a long moment that made Hanzo want to get back in the car and leave. Maybe McCree wasn't home. The ranch was big enough that Hanzo wouldn't actually know if McCree was home or out doing whatever it is he did in his free time.

“What the hell are you doing on my property?”

Hanzo jumped and scrambled to catch his pie.

“Nothing.” Hanzo said. Because it was the first thing that came to mind even though it was dumb and a lie. “What are you doing here?”

“I live here.” McCree said. He was wearing a white, mud covered Henley and well worn jeans. His hat was no where to be found. His hair was wind swept and messy. His face misted in sweat and he wiped his hands on an old dish rag. McCree had no right to look as good as he did when he was covered in that much filth.

“How'd you find this place?”

“Genji.” Hanzo said. He looked down at the blueberry pie. “I'm came to apologize. I made you this.” He handed McCree the pie. McCree kept his hands to himself.

“What's this?” McCree asked.

“A blueberry pie.” Hanzo wondered if he could die from blushing. It would be an undignified death but at least he wouldn't have to live through this terrible experience.

“A blueberry pie?” McCree asked.

“Yes. I heard—I remember it's your favorite.” Hanzo said. He kept the pie held out. Watched McCree look at the pastry, his facial expression turned over in a million micro ways Hanzo couldn't analyze.

McCree took the pie from Hanzo. “Well you're here. Might as well come inside and get a slice.” McCree pushed passed Hanzo and opened his front door. Hanzo watched McCree go in, dumbstruck into stillness.

“Don't just stand there. Hurry up, I ain't got all day.” McCree said. Hanzo rushed into the house and closed the door behind him. It wasn't a perfect home. The coffee table was broken. That was the first thing Hanzo realized. And all the furniture was mismatched. Worn down as if they had been passed down or bought at a thrift store. There were splashes of color in art work and family photos in colorful frames. Hanzo lurked by a photo of a young boy who could only be McCree, wearing his cowboy hat, ten sizes too big for him, sitting on a woman's impressively sized bicep as she flexed and grinned at the camera.

“That's my Ma.” McCree said. “She ain't around no more.”

Hanzo could hear the sound of silverware clattering about, and then the sound of saran wrap crinkling.

“Are you gonna come over here and have this pie you brought or what?” McCree asked.

Hanzo didn't answer. Instead he walked over to the kitchen. Where the evening sun showed through clearly and turned McCree golden in its light. Hanzo held onto the kitchen archway for support. How could he ever betray this man? The amulet felt heavy against his chest.

McCree passed him a slice of pie. “You better get to talking before I get to shooting”.

“I came to apologize.” Hanzo said.

“Did you, now?” McCree sat down at the kitchen table and took a bite out of the pie. “You apologized already. What more have you got to say?”

Hanzo took hold of his fork and used it to pierce the crust of the pie. He was afraid to learn how it tasted. “I. . .did not apologize thoroughly enough. I want to say sorry for breaking our rules. I was so focused on my own goals I put aside our shared ones. I never thought I would stoop so low but I have. . .and I've hurt you.”

“And you stole my money.”

“And I stole your money. To meet my own ends. I am sorry. And I hope you can forgive me.” Hanzo said. The words didn't feel like enough. But Hanzo didn't know how to translate the soul-deep sorrow he felt at ruining their relationship. He kept his eyes on his plate and waited for McCree to tell him to leave.

“Did you know Genji cut my serape in half?” McCree asked.

“What? _When_?” Hanzo asked.

“Years ago. Back when you were still with your family.” McCree got up from the table, slow and graceful like he always was. He walked toward the entryway of his home where there were coats and things hung on numbs of wood fixed into the wall. McCree took down his signature serape. Even now the warm, worn red cloth was a visible comfort to McCree. He pulled a chair over to Hanzo and held out his serape so Hanzo could see.

“Right here. You notice where the pattern don't line up? It's hard to tell from a distance. My stitchin’s pretty decent but it's not quite the same from when my Ma had it. Go ahead a give it a feel. It's real clear when you get your fingers on it.”

Hesitantly, Hanzo ran a finger down the middle of McCree's serape. He could feel the amateur stitches and it made him feel. . .something. Hanzo couldn't put a name to how he felt.

“Genji never told me he'd done such a thing.”

“Course he wouldn't. When he came to his senses days later he was ashamed. We were in Greece and some man bumped into him and was real nasty about it. Blamed him. Made a scene. Genji wanted to kill him for the disrespect. I had to haul him off the street before he made a mess of the guy. We got back to the place we were stayin' and he let all that anger out on me. He broke things. Called me things I won't ever repeat. I was younger then and dealing with my best friend go off on me like that? You gotta understand before Genji I didn't make a lot of friends my age. He was—for a while there he was my only friend. We were both in a bad way and—I'm getting sidetracked. Fact is I yelled right back at him and your brother ended the argument by ripping my serape with his bare hands.

Hanzo looked up at McCree who was studiously avoiding eye contact. “I didn't know he'd done that.” Hanzo said.

“You're brother likes to pretend he didn't use to go ‘round taking any pill offered to him and beating the crap outta anyone who looked at him funny. He's all 'calm' now. Pfft.”

Hanzo watched McCree's face and waited for the cowboy to arrive at his point.

“You made me angrier pulling the stunt you did in Rome. In comparison what Genji did was nothing.” McCree said.

Hanzo felt like a horse kicked his stomach. He couldn't bare to look at McCree a moment longer. He couldn't stand to sit in his house. Hanzo's gaze fell down the the serape.

“Not 'cause you took my money, although I do expect you to pay me back.” McCree continued, “And, not cause you put me in danger, 'cause, Hanzo, honey, I'm nearly always in danger. Look at me, sugar. I'm talking to you.”

Looking McCree in the eye felt like needles in Hanzo's heart. He could feel himself grimacing but he looked because it was the least he could do. McCree kept talking.

“It's cause it came out of nowhere. Back in the day I expected Genji to do whatever dumb thing entered his head. Shit, I expected him to shoot me in my sleep some nights. I wouldn't have been surprised in the least. But you and I have always been on the up and up. Even when you've been drunk off your ass you've always told me the truth. And this time you didn't. You treated me like I was some Podunk thug you were teaming up with to get some no-name job done and we ain't like that. Or at least I thought we wasn't.”

“Why are you taking so long to do this?” Hanzo asked.

“So long to do what?”

“Kick me out. Kill me. _Something._ Why are you acting like you still respect me?”

“I _do_ respect you.”

“Nonsense.”

“Don't go doin' that. I'm not in the mood. I just said I respect you and I respect you but I'm pissed to hell.”

“So kill me already and get it over with.”

“I hate you Shimadas, you know that? Most people don't solve their problems with murder.”

“Most people have problems that come back to cause them more trouble.” Hanzo's face curled into an irritated snear. The two of them sat staring at each other until McCree sighed and put his serape on the table and dragged his plate closer.

“This pie is good.” McCree said. Hanzo felt the pain in his stomach subside and give way to a modest burst of joy. “Where'd you buy it?”

“I made it.” Hanzo said.

“Bullshit.

“I did.”

“Then you needa fuck up more often. I'm gonna wanna eat this again.”

“This is a one time occurrence.”

“Is that amulet really your mother’s?”

“Yes.”

“Let me see it.”

Hanzo untucked the amulet form his shirt and thrust it toward McCree. McCree leaned in and popped the amulet open.

“It's got hair in it.”

“My mother's.”

McCree shut the amulet and leaned in closer to get a look the casing.

“It used to have a crystal dragon on it. If you look closely you can tell. Whoever tried to pawn this off to the Vatican wasn't good at their job.” Hanzo said.

“No. Now that I know what to look for it's a pretty shit job. Why would this be in the Vatican?”

Hanzo gently took the amulet out of McCree's hands and put it back under his shirt. “I suspect someone got their hands on it and discovered it could perform miracles, pried off the crystals of the dragon design in order to suit their needs, and claimed the amulet had belonged to Mary.”

“Are you telling me the amulet can perform miracles?”

“Not the amulet. There was a small emerald inside. Uncut. The emerald grants miracles. It is the most important part of the amulet.”

“Was the emerald a good luck charm for your mother when she was alive?”

Hanzo chuckled humorlessly. “If that were the case she would still be alive. No. The emerald is my mother.”

“Excuse me?” McCree leaned back in his chair to look over Hanzo proper. It didn't look like he was lying but apparently Hanzo was an apt liar. “I'm going to need clarification on that.”

“Genji told you about the specifics of the Shimada clan, yes?”

“Yeah, lots of mystic stuff. What he described sounded like magic.”

“And Genji told you that Sojiro killed my mother?”

“I—I know how you get about me knowing too much about this stuff—”

“I will not be upset if he did.”

McCree searched Hanzo's face for any lies and still couldn't find any.

“Yeah he told me.”

Hanzo nodded. “Then you won't be surprised to hear that when Sojiro killed my mother he had her spirit encased in an emerald to harness the energy of her soul and further punish her for the crimes she had committed.”

“Hanzo. . .” During their travels the two of them had seen plenty of unexplainable things. Things that most would call magic. It wasn’t so far-fetched, no matter how fantastical it sounded. “What crimes had your mother committed?”

“She had given birth to Genji.”

McCree didn't know what to say. He felt dread and pain well up in his chest and tried to tame it down. “I don't understand. Is he your half-brother or something?”

“Genji is my full brother.” Hanzo said. “It is important to understand the title of heir isn't simply passed down from father to son.” Hatred like McCree had never seen before flashed cross Hanzo's face. “Whichever child shows the most promise in training is the one who is bestowed the title of clan heir.”

McCree wasn't sure if he had the heart to hear whatever Hanzo was about to say next.

“My father was the strongest fighter and most cunning tactician the clan had. His name was Mori Shimada. He was Sojiro Shimada's brother.”

“Oh Hanzo, honey. . .” McCree reached out and put his hand palm up on Hanzo's thigh. Hanzo linked his hand with McCree's and held on tight.

“My mother loved my father. Very much. They were never expected to fall in love. My mother was married to Sojiro, and was expected to act with a certain dignity regardless of any task given to her. The clan head pairing people off to have children was a way of assuring the population of the clan was always steady. And that the proper people would produce children that would yield the best result. That no one had problematic children. And there would be only one heir to pour time and energy into. When Sojiro found out my mother was to have Genji he was furious. And the moment Genji was born he slit my mother's throat.”

McCree took Hanzo's hand with both of his and held it steady. “What made him spare Genji?”

“He claimed that an unborn child was innocent and shouldn't be punished for the sins of its mother.”

“What happened to your father. Your real father.”

“They waited until,” Hanzo's eyes lost focus. McCree held his hand tighter. “They waited until Genji was old enough. They taught him how to fight. Same as I. We received the same training. Genji had become a capable warrior. They ensured it was so. His own father had taught him.

When Genji was thirteen Sojiro walked him out to the courtyard of the compound. He handed him a sword. Mori was waiting there. Sojiro told Genji Mori was his biological father and that to prove his loyalty to Sojiro he would have to kill Mori. I was being tutored in history when it happened. I heard Genji screaming and left my lessons to see if he was hurt. Injuring ourselves in practice was common. But we were taught never to scream. I thought something must be wrong.

Hanzo breathed like he was holding in a sob. “I found my brother yelling at Sojiro. Asking him why he had lied to him for so long, and why he would ask him to murder an innocent man. Sojiro turned to me and boasted how _weak_ Genji was. He lacked loyalty. And if he didn't kill Mori then Genji would die in his place.”

McCree felt like he was going to vomit.

“I told Sojiro there was no need to test Genji. I took the sword from my brother's hands. I told Sojiro he didn't have to worry if Genji was loyal to the clan. He had me and I was loyal enough to cover for his weakness. I took the sword from Genji and slew my father in front of everyone. Sojiro told me to gut Mori so that is what I did. I disemboweled him and strung him from the bell out in the courtyard. He—my father thanked me for killing him. With his final breathes he said—he said I was strong for protecting my younger brother.” Hanzo was on the cusp of tears. He held McCree's hand so hard he was certain he was hurting him but McCree was the only thing keeping him together long enough to get out what needed to be said.

“I did it for Genji. So he wouldn't know the horror of committing murder. And the memory of killing his father. But instead he hates me for it.”

“Hanzo, no.”

“He hates me. For years he refused to call me his brother.”

“Hanzo, **no**. Look at me, sugar.” McCree leaned forward in his chair and cupped Hanzo's face with his free hand. Hanzo leaned into McCree's touch like he was starved for it and McCree's heart melted. His anger at Hanzo chipping away despite himself.

“What you did for your brother is more than most will ever do for another person. You know how lucky Genji is to have you for a brother?”

“He thinks I shouldn't have done it. That there was another way.”

“And maybe there was. But would you both gotten out of there alive? Are you telling me a sixteen year old and a thirteen year old would have been able to outsmart and outrun a whole outfit by themselves?”

“I could have outsmarted them!”

“You did outsmart them. You think Sojiro didn't know Genji wouldn't kill his own father when he knew the truth? It was a set up from the sound of it. An excuse to kill Genji. And you were a variable he didn't factor in. You were smart. And brave. And you made sure you and your brother made it out alive. And that's all that fuckin' matters. You hearin' me? You got out and that's all that matters.”

Hanzo didn't know what to do with all the emotions pent up inside of him. He didn't want to cry. Crying made him feel weak. But he could feel his forehead tensing and his throat begin to close. McCree let go of his hand to open his arms.

“Come here, darlin'. It's alright now. He's across the world and don't know this ranch even exists. He can't hurt you here.”

That's the last straw for Hanzo. He opened his mouth to tell McCree he didn't need a hug but what came out was a sob. He folded into the hug and hid himself in McCree's neck. McCree rubbed soothing circles into his back.

They sat like that until the evening sunlight was gone and they were surrounded by the safeness of the dark. When Hanzo sat back in his own chair his face with anger so strong McCree could barely recognize him.

“My father is dead and my mother's soul cannot rest until I shatter the emerald. I must do this.” Hanzo said.

McCree didn't know what to do with his partner in crime. He cradled Hanzo's face in his hands and wiped his tears away with the pads of his thumbs. “Then we will. We'll steal it back and make things right.”

* * *

“This is a terrible plan.” Hanzo muttered under his breath.

“Consider it payback for lying to me.” McCree said.

They were in New York City. Apparently the thief who had pawned the amulet to the Vatican used the money from the exchange party all the way across the world, found themselves in New York City and got arrested for disorderly conduct somewhere in downtown Manhattan. They'd slipped out from under the police but not without leaving their possessions behind. Most importantly the emerald. It was now sitting somewhere in evidence in some shitty run down precinct that Hanzo was about to become intimately familiar with.

Their plan consisted of getting one of them thrown in jail and the other sneaking in to get them out so they could slink into the evidence room, get the emerald and go. They both agreed this last minute plan would be easier to pull off it one of them was already in the precinct under non-suspicious circumstances. Hanzo drew the short straw, and started a bar fight to get himself thrown in the slammer.

Hanzo was in handcuffs, and not happy about it. McCree watched Hanzo being shoved through the front door from his vantage point on a rooftop across from the police precinct.

McCree waited, listening through the comm as Hanzo gave the police the fake information they'd put together. He didn't envy Hanzo one bit as he listened to him being put through the booking process and shoved in a holding cell.

“I'm in position.” Hanzo whispered.

“Uh-huh.” McCree said. He post up against the rooftop vent, lit a cigrallo from his pocket and took a long drag.

“Are you going to come in here and get me out of this wretched place?” Hanzo asked.

“In a minute.”

Hanzo sighed loudly. “I never believed you to be vindictive.”

“Not normally, sugar. But I know by this time tomorrow I'm not gonna be angry with you no more and it's real important to me that you understand you hurt me.”

“Is this a conversation we have to have now?” Hanzo asked.

McCree shrugged. “I guess we could. Better now then later I suppose.”

“ _Fine_. I recognize that I—we have a lot of work to do. To go back to the place we were before I ruined everything.”

“You didn't ruin everything. I'll forgive you it's just, you know. You're the closest person to me in my life right now. And that might make me a dork or a workaholic, considering why we spend so much time together. But your one of my best friends. Honest, at this point Genji might be second to you.”

“You are my best friend as well. There is nothing more important to me then putting my mother's soul to rest, and I don't think I could tell you I wouldn't do something like this again. Sojiro has committed many wrongs I have to right. But I will remember to ask for help at least. When I need it. ”

“I think right now, that's all I can ask of ya. No matter what, I care about you, Han.”

“And I care about you as well. Are you going to come in and get me now?” Hanzo asked.

“Yeah. Going now.” McCree said. He picked up the black duffelbag holding the little gear they thought they would need and got moving.

The interior of the precinct was a loud ugly mess. It smelled of stale coffee, copy paper and sweat. It was crowded, officers moving every which way and detainees screeching their discontent in the holding cells. People clogged up the front desk's attention making reports of robberies and assaults. The holiday season was a riff time for crime. The chaos was perfect for McCree to sneak over to the holding cells. The key was to walk with purpose, not too much eye contact with the people around him and not too little either. Shoulder's down, spine straight. He made it over to Hanzo. His partner stood leaning against the bars, arms folded, scowling at his fellow prisoners.

“Get me out of here, the man in the corner smells.”

“Han, that's rude.”

“Get. Me. Out.”

In the corner of the holding cell the smelly man in question hocked a loogie.

“ _Jesse._ ”

“Let me see if I can get to the evidence chest first and secure a route.” McCree said.

“I swear if you leave me here I will trim off your beard in your sleep.”

“You’re gorgeous when your threatening a man’s beard.”

Hanzo reached his hand out between the bars, took hold of the scruff of McCree's shirt and pulled him forward. “Do you think I won't do it? I will?”

McCree looked into Hanzo's' determined eyes and figured it wasn't worth the risk to his facial hair.

“You're a bully.”

“I'm persuasive.” Hanzo let go of McCree. McCree started on the lock. He popped it open within a few seconds.

“Come on.” McCree and Hanzo flit quickly from the holding cell toward the back of the precinct where they kept the evidence. Behind them, the holding cell delved into chaos as the smelly loogie-hocking man made a loud break for it that incited a few other detainees to action as well.

They ducked into an interrogation room while a group of officers rushed passed to get to the mess at the holding cells.

“Unlock these.” Hanzo thrust his hand cuffed hands toward McCree.

“We don't got time for me to be uncuffing you right now.”

“I'll be useless unless I have both my hands.”

“You and I both know you're dangerous with no hands let alone cuffed ones.” Regardless McCree got out his lock pick and worked on releasing one of Hanzo's hands from the cuffs.

Hanzo thanked him and they kept moving. They moved quickly through the halls, opening doors and peaking inside until they found the evidence room.

McCree didn't think twice about knocking out the officer guarding the evidence. Before the poor man could even tell them they weren't supposed to be there McCree had him unconscious and slumping against his desk.

“I'll search for it on the shelves, you can. . .” Hanzo and McCree saw it at the same time. Standing out against the rusting industrial shelving holding hundreds of cases worth of evidence were two wooden pallets worth of cash stacked four feet high and covered in plastic wrap. The money-driven spark inside of them kicked into gear so fast and so hard it left them both dizzy.

“Holy shit. You think we got time?” McCree asked.

“There's always time. My mother first and then the money. Check the ledger. I will check the shelves.”

The pair sprung to action. McCree threw himself at the ledger on the desk while Hanzo scoured the shelves.

“It says it should be under shelves 27-49!”

“13, 20, 25, Found it!”

Hanzo took the small plastic baggy containing the emerald. He turned it over in his hands before tucking it into an inside pocket of his jacket.

“Money now. Pass me the bag.”

McCree stuffed the contents of the bag into whatever pockets on his person were big enough and the rest got dumped on the floor.

Together Hanzo and McCree ripped the plastic wrap apart and filled their duffelbag full to the brim with cash.

“You think it was drug money before it was confiscated?” McCree asked.

“It was most certainly drug money. I can't think of another reason someone would have this much around.”

Hanzo put fistfulls of cash in his jacket pockets. He made a mess of it. He was certain that money was getting caught in the mouth of his boots, and poking out of his jacket. What he couldn't properly stuff pooled around his feet.

“To think I almost missed this because you were going to leave me in a that disgusting holding cell.”

“I wasn't really gonna leave you.”

Hanzo took a dollar between his fingers and rolled it tightly. He stared McCree down as he tucked it behind his ear. “Liar.”

McCree looked at Hanzo and felt overwhelmed. Hanzo was menace. Covered in cash and glowing from the adrenaline of victory. Hair messy and windswept from being arrested. Cheeks flushed from excitement, his deep brown eyes glittering with mischief. For once in his life McCree was going to take his father's advice. He was going to make his moment now.

“You're mighty handsome right now.” McCree said.

“Be careful, McCree. That almost sounded real.”

“It was real.”

“Hm-mmm.”

“Hanzo, I was tellin' the truth. I think your beautiful. I love you.” McCree said.

Hanzo stopped to stare at McCree.

“Excuse me?”

Time ceased to exist. McCree could hear his heart beat in his ears, another wave of adrenaline washed over him. What fresh stupidity had overcome him to think that now was the proper time to tell him this? What brain to mouth filter stopped working? He couldn't take it back now.

“I said I love you. Even when you're driving me crazy. And you've been stuffing twenties in your pocket, get the hundreds.”

Hanzo was stunned down to his core. How could McCree love him? What was McCree trying to pull? Why would he mock him this way? Hanzo's face contorted with anger. He dropped his fistfuls of cash and took McCree by his shirt collar. He threw him onto the palate of money.

He felt. . .Hanzo didn't know how he felt. “What type of joke is this? Are you mocking my feelings for you?

“What feelings?”

Hanzo and McCree stared at one another. Realization dawning on them both and turning them red.

“I thought you were—“ Hanzo said.

“—How could you think I would—“ McCree said.

“We're both fools.”

“I guess we are.”

It was quiet between them as they stared at one another.

“I'd like to kiss you.” Hanzo said.

“We gotta talk about this.”

“Yes. Later.”

“But, yeah, Han. You can kiss me.”

Hanzo looked down at McCree's flustered, worried face and leaned down to kissed him.

It was instantaneous fire. Like every other aspect of their lives Hanzo couldn't help but feel that they had done this before. The intimate press of their lips and McCree's warm breath on his face. The new yet predictable jump in his stomach when their lips parted and the kiss deepened. If the past week's events all led to this, Hanzo was willing to make peace with his actions.

A door slammed closed in the distance and they both jumped apart.

“We need to get out of here.” Hanzo said.

The evidence door room opened and a sleepy looking man holding a cup of coffee walked in, saw the mess of cash and Hanzo and McCree covered in money. He let out a scream to his fellow officers for help.

“Goddamn. This week is cursed, I swear.” McCree took hold of Hanzo while Hanzo took hold of the bag of money. They pushed passed the officer using brute force and made a break for it out the back door of the precinct.

* * *

“So you love me?” Hanzo asked. He sat at the kitchen table of their safe house and watched McCree pinch the bridge of his nose. It had taken an hour of snaking around the city and outmaneuvering the police to make it to their safe house.

“I admit I hadn't meant to say that.” McCree said.

“But it's true?”

McCree sighed. “Of course it's true. We made-out on a palate of money like a couple a rich teenagers. I mean I'm still angry with you.”

“Are you, really?”

McCree sighed again and pinched his nose harder. “No. But I should be.”

“Do we need to take a break?” Hanzo asked.

“We're not even dating.”

“That's not what I meant.”

“No we—yes. From stealing things at least. After this. I think. I'd like to focus on trusting each other again. This past year, I've felt like I've really gotten to know you. Like we've gotten closer. I don't want that to be taken away.”

“I understand.” Hanzo stared at McCree's chest, confused. “I don't know how you could love me even now. After I betrayed you. But I'm willing to work on our trust.”

“No more heists.” McCree said.

“For how long?”

McCree shrugged. “A while. Let's say a year.”

Hanzo snorted. “Six months then.”

“Hey!”

“You will get bored.”

“Says the adrenaline junkie. I give you a week before you're tryin' to wheedle me into stealing something.”

“No. No more wheedling.” Hanzo pulled McCree into a hug and McCree went gladly.

* * *

“Are you ready, brother?” Genji asked. Everything about him was tense. Out of respect for his brother Hanzo had asked if Genji wanted to join him in putting their mother's spirit to rest. Against Genji's better judgment he agreed. The pair were in Hanamura, Japan. McCree with them only to be a human shield between the brothers and prevent them from committing fratricide.

Hanzo nodded. “I'm ready.”

“I'll leave you both too it.” McCree said. He walked a respectful distance away and tried to give them some privacy.

Hanzo took the emerald out of his pocket. He turned it over. Dug into the natural imperfections of the stone with his nails. The unnatural emerald broke in Hanzo's hands. Bright green mist seeped out. It was lethargic at first. As if from coming out a deep slumber before flitting about waking up with each loop it made through the air. The mist floated over to Genji and circled him.

“ _Mother?_ ” Genji asked. The green mist flew through Genji. Hanzo thought he could see his brother crying. But then the mist was circling around him and he couldn't see past it.

Hanzo felt. . .peace. And warmth. Unquestionable, unconditional love. He felt a part of him that had been missing for so many years fit back into place.

The green mist skipped off into the valley. Leaving McCree with two crying Shimadas.

* * *

“You're couch needs dusting. I should go out and get a new one for you. This one smells like smoke.” Hanzo was spread out on McCree's couch while McCree took up space on the floor underneath him along with all the throw pillows. It was New Years eve, and the pair had made the decision to watch the ball drop on TV and stay on McCree's ranch.

“My couch is fine!”

Hanzo rolled over until his face was smooshed into the grey-blue couch cushion. “Your couch is disgusting. I'll steal you a new one if necessary.”

“Hey now! We ain't doin' that no more. It's the legal life for us, right?”

Hanzo snorted. “For as long as we can stand it.”

The television New Years countdown became louder as news casters began to shout down from 10.

“Jesse?” Hanzo asked.

“What is it, darlin'?”

Hanzo had one last bit of business he needed taken care of before he could truly rest. He didn't know why he was nervous. Even after everything McCree was a sure thing.

“I love you.”

Joy bowled McCree over so hard he barely thought the moment was real.

Hanzo leaned over to kiss McCree. Neither of them thought they could ever be this happy. It was a blessing to be proven wrong.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> If you liked xxhunter's art please consider checking out their tumblr for more wonderfulness[[X]](http://xxhhunter.tumblr.com/tagged/similartoart)
> 
> And if you'd like to come scream at me about Hanzo and McCree this is my tumblr (18+ only/NSFW)[[X]](https://carressa.tumblr.com/)


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